


Dishonor Among Thieves

by Cagedbird30



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Thieves, Conflict, Enemies to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Smut, Thief AU, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2018-12-27 19:58:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12088281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cagedbird30/pseuds/Cagedbird30
Summary: Mickey Milkovich is an expert art thief. He is one mission away from retirement when his plan goes horribly awry. He now has to figure out how to complete his mission... and deal with a charming redhead who he meets along the way.





	1. The Joker

Today was the day. It had taken him years of training to work up to his biggest heist yet, but Mickey Milkovich was about to become a millionaire. He had no idea he would become a top-level thief. He had started off doing small things: breaking into cars, stealing from convenience shops, and selling a little weed every now and then. At the age of 17, his father Terry Milkovich, kicked him out on his ass. Eventually Mickey came across his mentor, Adam Gibbs. Gibbs taught him everything about art; how to appreciate it, how to spot fakes, how to critique it, but most importantly, how to steal it and sell it on the black market.

Though his mentor had passed away more than a year ago, Mickey continued his legacy. It hadn't been easy. Adam Gibbs was an educated man who had studied Art at Northwestern University and came from an upper-class family. Mickey Milkovich on the other hand had a criminal record and had grown up in one of the roughest neighborhoods in Chicago. He was the very definition of "white trash," but Gibbs had seen his potential, and for that Mickey was grateful.

Anyone who grew up with Mickey Milkovich wouldn't recognize him if their life depended on it. He always covered up his knuckle tattoos with make-up, he maintained a short, slicked back hairstyle, and even wore some Clark Kent like glasses at high end events to add some flare.

Tonight was the Gatsby Gala, the single most important art auction of the year. Mickey finished tying his red velvet bow-tie and took one last look in the mirror. He looked damn good, and he knew it. He wore a perfectly fitted black suit with matching shoes. Putting on his glasses, he made his way out of his studio apartment that had a pretty decent view of the city. Mickey didn't love New York, but it was the place that took him in when he no longer had one and after tonight, he would have enough money to start a new life in Europe... or anywhere he wanted.

"Alright, let's fucking do this," he whispered to himself.

A black town car was waiting for him downstairs. His driver, Tony, opened his door.

"Good evening Mr. Mackay," Tony greeted kindly.

"Hey Tony," Mickey replied, slipping into the backseat. Part of being a thief meant having a different identity. He was known to the world as Michael Angelo Mackay. He personally thought it was a fucking stupid name, but it was the first thing that had come up on the name generator he had found on google.

The drive to the gala was short and soon they were pulled up to the entrance.

Mickey was greeted by a few people he knew from attending these sort of events. Most of the people were quite dull but Mickey had perfected feigning interest in their conversations. 

After participating in a few silent auctions, Mickey found his seat at his assigned table. He recognize most of the faces and fell into easy conversation with them, the seat next to him however, was empty which he found strange. While discussing one of the pieces that would be sold at the main auction with one of the older women in his table, Mickey felt someone take a seat next to him.

"My apologizes everyone. I just landed from the west coast, and you know how traffic can be out of JFK," he joked, flashing a brilliant, dazzling smile at everyone in the table.

Mickey stared with his mouth slightly opened. The newcomer had fiery-red hair and a perfectly chiseled jaw. His smile had Mickey under a slight trance. Mickey quickly shook certain thoughts out of his mind. 

 _"Get it together Milkovich,"_ he thought to himself.

"Oh Ian! I am so glad you could join us. We haven't seen you in so long!" Sarah, a recreational collector, squealed out from the other side of the table.

Ian smiled shyly at her. "Me too. I've been attempting to see what California has to offer but aside from hot weather and a bunch of wannabe celebs, it doesn't have much I must admit," he explained.

Mickey pretty much took a backseat for the remainder of the dinner. This Ian guy had everyone eating out of the palm of his hand. Everyone's undivided attention was on him. 

"I don't think we've met," Ian whispered, leaning towards Mickey. "I'm Ian, Ian Gallaway."

Mickey nodded. "Yeah, I don't believe we have. I'm Michael Mackay," he offered. 

Ian spent the next 20 minutes talking Mickey's ears off. The guy had a comment about everything and anything. Mickey mostly responded in nods or some sort of vocalization but he was very much paying attention, in fact, Ian had Mickey's undivided attention.  He was charming, and Mickey couldn't help but stare at his perfectly pink lips every so often. 

It wasn't until his phone buzzed that Mickey was brought back to earth. He had almost forgotten why he had been attending the gala, but he quickly remembered. His phone reminded him that he had 10 minutes until the main auction began, which meant he had 10 minutes until he had to break into the safe located on the top floor.

After an announcement was made that the main auction would be beginning soon, everyone made their way into the ballroom. Ian stopped at the bar to grab a drink and Mickey joined him. 

"That's a beautiful watch," Ian commented, as Mickey reached for a glass of champagne. 

The dark haired man looked down at his watch. "Oh yeah, thanks. I got it a few years ago. It's a Salvatore. He only makes two of each watch, he's kind of weird that way," Mickey shrugged.

Ian smiled softly at Mickey, making the other man's chest tighten.

"Shall we?" Ian asked, facing the door toward the ballroom.

"You go ahead. I need to use the restroom and then make a quick phone call," Mickey responded coolly. Ian nodded and made his way inside the grand ballroom.

Mickey quickly threw back the last of the champagne and made his way towards the stairs, where there were no cameras. He had planned this out meticulously for years. He knew every last little detail. Inside the safe was an original Degas painting worth about 15 million dollars. Mickey had dreamed of getting his hands on it almost every night.

In a hidden part of the stairwell, Mickey found the tools necessary to break into the safe. He had precisely 5 minutes to get everything done.

Using a master key he had stolen a few days ago, he entered the room easily. The hard part was breaking into the safe. He put on his black gloves and began to work on it. 

After working tirelessly for three consecutive minutes, he finally cracked the safe open. He let out a deep breath as he turned in the last combination. 

There was nothing on this planet that could have prepared him for what he found.

"No, no, no!" He yelled quietly to himself.

The safe was empty. Completely empty. Mickey's heartbeat began to race at lightning speed. So much so, he thought he would die of a heart attack right then and there.

As he traced his hand throughout the safe, his glove brushed against something on the top shelve. Mickey grabbed it and stared at the card in front of him.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Mickey muttered angrily. Before him was a single Joker playing card. It wasn't just any card though. Mickey knew exactly what this was.

Unfortunately, he didn't have enough time to wallow in his bad timing. He quickly gathered his equipment and left the safe as it was, placing the card back where he found it.

Mickey made his way back down the stairs and into the grand ballroom. It wasn't very hard to spot Ian's red-orange hair. The redhead smiled at Mickey as the blue-eyed man took a seat next to him.

"Everything okay?" Ian asked.

Mickey forced himself to smile as genuinely as possible, he hoped he was convincing. "Yeah, everything's fine."

Except everything wasn't fine. The mission he had worked on for years had failed. He had been robbed out of his perfect opportunity at a fortune by the most notorious art thief on this side of the hemisphere: The Joker. No one knew who it was, but they always left their card as their signature. 

Mickey wasn't sure how The Joker had gotten the upper-hand but he'd be dammed if he didn't try to figure it out... after all, the guy had just ruined his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a dream about this plot. I truly hope I can do it justice.  
> Also, for my OLUF readers, I'm still working on it :)


	2. Complications and Distractions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey makes it his mission to figure out who the Joker is so he recruits help from a few colleagues in his line of work. He also runs into a familiar face while doing so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I've never really written smut before but I tried my best LOL.

Mickey roamed through the administrative offices of the Museum of Art looking for a particular office. He stopped in front of one that read "Angela Adams" and knocked.

"Come in," a voice directed from inside the office.

Inside was a petite woman in her late 20s. She wore dark slacks and a blazer that contrasted with her light features. "Ah, Mickey. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Angie had also been one of Gibbs' proteges. She had gone solo a few years before he had passed away. Mickey and her had done a few jobs together. She worked as a specialist inside the museum which was the perfect cover for the kind of extra curricular activities she engaged in.

"I need help Angie," Mickey told her, slumping down on the soft couch in her office. He looked like a baby who had gotten his candy stolen from him.

Angie withdrew her attention from the document she was typing up and looked at her friend. "What's wrong?" she asked, genuinely feeling concerned.

Mickey only muttered a few words. "The Degas from the Gatsby Gala," he said gloomily. 

"What about it? It was stolen by The Joker," she chimed in, trying to encourage him to get to the point.

The dark haired boy ran a hand across his face and groaned loudly. "I know. I even got into the safe, but I was too late. It's just my fucking luck to go after the same piece as the most notorious fucking art thief we've ever known."

Angie leaned back in her chair, taking in the information she had received. "Alright, so what are you going to do about it?"

"Well for one, I'd like to find out who the fucking bastard is and expose him. I also need something new to sell, the Degas is probably long gone by now." Angie seemed to mull it over in her head.

"I can help you with the second part," she began. "But you're definitely on your own with the whole vengeance thing. You know those things never work out in our line of work Mickey. It's simply bad taste," she explained with a slight shrug of her shoulders.

Though Mickey wasn't fully satisfied with her answer, he nodded. He needed any help he could get. His funds were running low, he had invested all of his time and money into the job at the gala.

Mickey watched as Angie searched through her computer browser. "Ok, so I found a private function happening next weekend. I can get us on the list. I know a few people who are attending. I'll be by your side as an alibi."

The dark haired man rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "What are we taking?"

With a grin on her face Angie replied. "A Picasso. My cut is 25% by the way."

Mickey's eyes immediately widened. He had dreamed of having a Picasso in his own private collection. It was one of the holy grail's in the business. "Shit. You know I'm in. Text me the details. I'll be ready," he told her, he stood up to head towards the door.

He awkwardly stood by the door, he wanted to thank her but he wasn't very good at these kinds of things.

"You're welcome. Run along now," Angie told him. Her ability to read his mind was uncanny. She made a shooing motion with her hand and he breathed out a laugh and made his way out.

In order to exit, Mickey had to walk through the museum. He had almost reached the door when his phone buzzed and he looked down at his pocket before retrieving it. Because he was distracted, he ran straight into another person.

"Jesus," he whined, rubbing at his shoulder. It felt as if he had ran into a brick wall.

"It's Ian, actually," the man corrected. Ian stood in front of Mickey looking absolutely edible. He wore a tight green v-neck that highlighted his eyes perfectly. His plump pink lips were pulled into a grin. Mickey had rubbed one out a few times thinking of those very same lips around his cock and it had only been a few days since they had last seen one another.

Mickey rolled his eyes playfully at the comment. "You need to pay more attention Gallaway."

Ian's eyes skimmed over Mickey from head to toe before he met the man's eyes again. "Actually, you ran into me," he informed him. "You heading out?"

"Yeah man, I'm starving. I was just visiting a friend," Mickey explained, even though it was a tad bit unnecessary.

The redheaded man beamed with a wide smile. "I was going to grab a bite to eat at the restaurant across the street. Wanna join?"

It was hard to say no to him. He gave Mickey such a puppy face that it actually caused him to soften up. Ian detected Mickey's hesitation. "Come on, you're not gonna let me eat all by myself, are you?" the man practically whined much to Mickey's amusement.

Mickey bit his lower lip and nodded. "Yeah man, sure. I was going to say yes anyways but it's more fun to watch you squirm." Mickey pushed Ian lightly and they both made their way out the revolving door of the museum.

 

* * *

 

The restaurant across the street was a fancy version of a burger joint. Mickey grew up hating places like this, but had gotten accustomed to them over the years. He had a role to play after all. The men sat outside and Mickey watched as Ian's hair looked like an orange flame when the sun was shining on it. When Ian looked at him with curious eyebrows, Mickey quickly dropped his eyes to the open menu in front of him.

Mickey wasn't sure why he had said yes. It felt like a lunch date, and he didn't do lunch dates... or any dates for that matter. His worries quickly swam away when Ian broke into a smile. It made Mickey's chest hurt, in the best way imaginable.

"This burger is called the Mother of Dragons," the redhead explained. "They have themes every month and since it's Game of Thrones season their whole menu is tailored to fit the show."

Mickey nodded absentmindedly. He hadn't watched the show but clearly it had to be a big deal for a restaurant to do this. He ended up ordering the same as Ian. In his mind, a burger was a burger, no matter what you put on it. Plus, he had been raised a Milkovich; they pretty much ate anything.

"So, you live in the city. But you're not from here," Ian commented. He was intent on filling the silent void around them.

Mickey smiled cockily. "And how do you know that, firecrotch?"

Ian's smile got impossibly bigger at the nickname. It also made his dick twitch but he made sure to get himself under control. "Your accent, it's not from here."

Though unsure how much to reveal about himself, Mickey wanted to be honest with the other man. "Nah, I'm not. I'm originally from Chicago," Mickey told him, not meeting Ian's gaze, and instead looking out towards the street.

"Damn. What are the chances? Two Chicago natives living in New York City. Wish I had met you earlier, would've been nice to have someone on my side cheering for the Blackhawks."

Mickey stared back at Ian. He couldn't believe that he was also from Chicago. He felt a strange bond with the redhead.

"What made you leave?" Ian asked.

Mickey chewed on the inside of his lip before answering. "My dad was a piece of shit. There wasn't much I could do anyway. Not a whole lot of option in the area I grew up in." He normally didn't share that much. The people in the art industry were usually rich little fuckers who had no idea what it was like to worry about getting by everyday.

Ian nodded. "Yeah, man. I understand."

Their waitress came back and served them their food. Both men took a bite out of their burgers at the same time and moaned in unison at how great it tasted.

"Wow. This is totally worth the money I'm paying," Mickey hummed, his mouth was still full.

Ian laughed, though it caused him to choke as his mouth was also full. "Yeah, that's what you get, bitch." Mickey told him, a smirk on his face.

They mostly ate in silence as both men were truly hungry. They were done within minutes.

Mickey leaned back on the chair and rubbed at his stomach. "That was life-changing."

"Hmm, it was very good. But life-changing may be a little over the top, Mick." The nickname had made Mickey's dick begin to harden. The sun was beginning to set and Ian looked more and more like a Greek god in Mickey's eyes.

"Alright. So where to next firecrotch?" he asked, licking his lips suggestively.

Ian stood and threw a few bills down to cover the bill.

"I live a few blocks down, follow me."

 

* * *

 

Ian's place was a beautiful loft. The one thing that really stuck out was the number of windows that brought in so much light, it definitely fit his shining personality. Mickey walked around quietly, analyzing the place. It was fairly simple but very well decorated. The floors were a dark brown hardwood with white furniture that contrasted nicely. The walls were painted a soft grey with simple paintings in each one. 

"So what do you think?" Ian asked. He had been getting nervous as the slightly older man hadn't said much since they had walked in.

Mickey looked back at Ian. "It's nice man. Too many windows though," he said, a teasing tone clear in his voice.

The redhead raised a curious eyebrow. "You're telling me you've never thought about having sex against a window, looking out into the city?"

Mickey rubbed his chin, pretending to think it over. "Eh, maybe once or twice," he responded, shrugging his shoulders. He leaned against the counter and watched over Ian who was sprawled out comfortably on his sofa.

"So you wanna chit-chat some more or do you wanna get on me?" Mickey asked, lust dripping from his voice. He had already imagined this moment quiet a few times in the privacy of his home when he jerked off.

Ian smirked and quickly got onto his feet. He walked over to Mickey and trapped him between his own body and the counter. His green eyes had darkened. Ian leaned forward to kiss Mickey but the brunette had placed a hand on his chest, stopping him from doing so.

"I don't need you to kiss me, man. I'm not a fucking girl."

Ian closed the space between them. Mickey could feel the other man's erection pressing against him, it made him practically start salivating. Ian was only an inch away from his lips. "Are you sure? I hear I'm pretty good," he teased.

Mickey's breath hitched, the strain in his jeans was becoming borderline unbearable. He dropped all pretenses and snaked his arm around the taller man's neck and brought their lips together. He could feel Ian smiling in triumph.

Though kissing had never been Mickey's thing, kissing Ian was on a whole different ballpark. He swore there were sparks actually flying from the contact, though he quickly shook off such a stupid thought. Ian's lips sucked on Mickey's bottom one and gently parted them to give the taller man access to his tongue. Their kiss deepened, eliciting a much shameful moan from Mickey.

The two men pushed their way into Ian's room, never quite breaking apart. They both quickly stripped their clothes off and jumped in bed. Ian was on top of Mickey kissing him when the other man turned to get on all fours. Ian quickly placed a hand on Mickey's shoulder to stop him.

"No. I want to be able to see you," Ian whispered softly. He saw as fear washed over Mickey's face for a quick moment until the older man nodded gently.

Ian reached for the lube on the nightstand and slicked his fingers with a fair amount. He kissed Mickey as he slid one finger inside the other man's hole. He added another and scissored his fingers. Mickey squirmed underneath his touch. 

After prepping Mickey, Ian ripped off a condom wrapper and quickly slid it onto his erection. He lubed the outside of the condom and lined up with Mickey's entrance. He slid in easily and slowly. It wasn't something Mickey was accustomed to. Everything he did was fast and rough, but things with Ian were more considerate.

They fit together perfectly, as if they were made for one another. Ian eventually bottomed out and began to move. Mickey felt so full, he was worried he'd bust right then and there, thankfully he didn't.

The redhead began moving gently at first before slamming into Mickey.

"Ugh. That feels so fucking good," Mickey praised. He winced internally at how fucked out he sounded, but he couldn't care because he was too caught up in the moment.

Ian on the other hand, could not form a coherent sentence. Only moans and grunts escaped from his lips. He was sure that his new favorite place was inside Mickey.

The dark-haired man pulled Ian closely, scratching wildly at his back as Ian sped up his slams. As soon as Ian reached between them to grab Mickey's dick, Mickey could not hold back any longer and spilled his come between their chests.

He released Ian as the other man continued to chase his release. Mickey was feeling over-sensitive but soon Ian was coming too, with a harsh, loud grunt.

Ian collapsed onto Mickey, both men out of breath. The redhead slowly rolled over, allowing the other man to catch his breath. He rolled the condom off, tied it, and tossed it in the bin next to the bed. After regaining his composure a bit, Ian got up from the bed and searched for a damp hand-towel to clean both him and Mickey off.

"Jesus christ, man. That was amazing," Mickey praised. "I'm surprised you're able to stand, my legs feel like fucking Jell-o."

Ian chuckled. He stared on at the beautiful man next to him on the bed. His legs had been shaking though, if he was honest with himself, but he didn't need to let Mickey know that right away.

Mickey allowed his eyes to close and fall into a deep sleep. He never actually slept with any of his one night stands, but this felt different. It _was_ different. He had received the best fucking of his life. He also didn't protest when he felt Ian's arms hug around his chest and pulling him in closely into a spooning position. The redhead's warmth felt safe and within moments he was fast asleep.

 

* * *

 

Ian woke up around 3 am with a great urge to pee. The moonlight illuminated his room naturally. He lifted his head up and stared at the man next to him. The glow of the moonlight made Mickey look breathtaking. He breathed softly and evenly, secured in Ian's arms. The redhead couldn't help but smile to himself. Ian quietly and softly, released his hold on Mickey and slipped out of the bed. His bathroom was at the end of his walk-in closet. He noticed he had left his safe open so he did a quick run through before locking up. Everything was in place so he made his way into the bathroom to release his bladder. The safe contained basic items: his passport, extra cash money, and a few jewelry items. It also contained a very stolen Degas painting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I initially wanted to make this story a one-shot but I figured separating it into a few chapters would make it easier for me. I've outlined 5 chapters although it could possibly become 6. Let me know what you think so far in the comments, I enjoy your reactions.


	3. It All Falls Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey meets with a computer nerd to learn more about The Joker's identity.

Mickey woke up in the same manner as he had in the previous five days, with Ian's arms around his waist and the taller man's nose buried in his neck. He wasn't sure how it had occurred, but he hadn't been away from Ian since the first night they spent together. The unknown feeling had overwhelmed him at first; he didn't know how to explain it but Ian felt right.

Careful to not wake the redhead next to him, he managed to untangle himself from the other man's embrace and sat up on Ian's king size bed. Mickey rubbed at his sleepy eyes, his vision was blurred for a moment before he could see clearly. He turned slightly to stare at Ian. He was so beautiful that he took Mickey's breath away, something the other man would never admit to out loud. 

In the most soothing manner, tattooed fingers ran their way through short red locks. The other man's body instinctively pushed towards the touch, causing Mickey to fear that he had woken him up. A light snore confirmed that Ian was still in deep sleep to which Mickey sighed with relief. A short walk to the kitchen had Mickey analyzing the contents of Ian's fridge. The fridge was _very_   well stocked, it was clear that the occupant of the household enjoyed cooking more than eating out.

Mickey fried some bacon, scrambled a few eggs, and made his favorite breakfast dish: banana pancakes. Ian, who was now awake,  was over the moon when Mickey walked back into the bedroom with two plates of food. The redhead grabbed a pair of bed trays and dug into his breakfast.

Ian moaned every so often in between chews causing Mickey to stare on with a smug expression on his face. He relished in satisfying Ian, both inside and outside the bedroom.

Moments later, Ian scraped the reminder of his plate and leaned against the headboard of his bed. The dark comforter covered his naked body much to Mickey's displeasure. 

Biting his lip and staring out the window, Ian thought deeply on how to approach the subject he'd been delaying for the past few days.

As if on instinct, Mickey picked up on the redhead's cues. "What's on your mind?" he asked, pushing his tray away from him. An index finger reached Ian's chin, lightly prompting him to meet Mickey's gaze.

"I, uh, I'm not sure how to tell you this."

"You can tell me anything," Mickey countered, his even and collected tone masked the nervousness he was feeling internally.

"Before I met you, I was kind of at a crossroads. This city isn't really for me, which is why I travel so much," he confessed. "I decided to not renew my lease on this place. I saved enough money to just leave... go anywhere I want. I bought a ticket to an island in Venezuela, I'm supposed to fly out in a few days."

Mickey's breath hitched at the newfound information. He opened his mouth a few times, but no words came out.

"I wanna be on an island, Mick," Ian explained. "Sipping margaritas, turning red like a lobster with my toes buried deep in the sand. I didn't have anything tying me to this city... until I met you."

Mickey chewed on his bottom lip nervously. He closed his eyes and sighed heavily. "I'm not sure what to say to that, man."

When he opened his eyes, he found a pair of emerald green ones staring at him, they were soft and full of hope. "The only thing I want you to say is that you'll come with me... if you wish to do so."

It wasn't news to Ian that Mickey also did not want to stay in the city. They had shared so many thoughts over the past few days, but Ian had neglected to mention this. He hoped he was enough for Mickey to choose to come with him.

Time felt frozen as Ian held his breath waiting for the other man to reply.

"I'll only go if I get to wear one of those tropical shirts without you giving me shit for it," Mickey replied, the wide smile Ian gave him in return nearly made his heart stop.

The redhead let out a roaring laugh as he moved in to pull Mickey in for a deep kiss. "I'll buy you the shirt myself," he promised, staring at the brunet intently. There was no doubt in Mickey's mind that Ian would keep his promise.

A small chime from Mickey's phone brought him back to earth. It was easy to escape reality when Ian was at his side, he wanted no where but to be next to him. Letting out a loud groan, Mickey made his way to the shower, but not before Ian ran past him smacking in the ass playfully and jumping in first. He was definitely going to be late for his meeting.

 

* * *

 

Fall was in full swing in the city. The bold fashion colors in people's wardrobes showed as they walked on the street. If there was one thing Mickey loved about New York it was how you could just fit in the crowd, no matter what you looked like, there was always someone else that attracted more attention and no one would even bat an eye at it. Simultaneously, it was probably the thing that also made him the saddest, the ability to be a small fish in a huge pond, fitting in without anyone noticing you. There always seemed to be trade off. He was looking forward to explain the world with Ian.

As he walked towards his destination, Mickey's mind seemed to drift into a deeper thought.

He hadn't realized how lonely and empty he was inside until Ian came along and filled that void. It wasn't easy, his job required him to keep a low profile and he could only trust a handful of people at best. Relationships and the whole getting to know one another had never really peaked his interest, but it did now. Mickey knew he'd be lying is he told himself he wasn't nervous about the whole thing. He hated being vulnerable, it made him feel exposed, but whenever Ian is around him, he couldn't feel safer, and that was worth it to him.

Mickey allowed the sensitive banter going on in his mind to extinguish as he reached the Northwestern University library. Double checking the location given to him by Angie, he made his way into a private study area. He knocked on the door twice before a geeky looking kid opened it.

The brunet man couldn't help but stare up and down the kid's stature, he was roughly about Mickey's height but weighed what seemed to be half his own body weight. He had blond locks that reached his shoulders and thick red frame glasses. The kid was also sporting a sweater and jeans that were a size too big with a fucking Pikachu shirt... Mickey couldn't make this stuff up if he tried.

 _T_ _his_ was the kid genius fanboy that had the best lead on the joker? Mickey internally groaned but kept his face unreadable.

"So Angie tells me you're looking for dirt on the Joker." The nerdy kid told Mickey, breaking the silence.

Mickey nodded. He walked around to sit next to the kid who was now at his computer.

"I'm Johnny, by the way." He stared at Mickey as if waiting for the other man to introduce himself, when Mickey stayed quiet the kid simply shrugged and began typing on his computer.

"Alright man, so what can you tell me about this motherfucker?" Mickey asked Johnny, desperate to get the show on the road. He didn't want to spend more time here than needed. Plus he wanted to get back to Ian.

Johnny typed in a code and a map popped up. "These are all the places he's hit in the past two years. Well, all the ones where a joker card was left behind."

Mickey analyzed all the red dots on the map. There were easily over 100 of them all over the world. Johnny typed some more and small text boxes appeared. Locations and time stamps to go with the dots.

"Jesus kid, this is impressive," Mickey praised. He could only assume that mapping all this shit out had taken Johnny months.

The blonde haired kid that seemed way too young to be in college leaned back on his computer chair. "See anything that stands out?"

Mickey squinted trying to see if there was something he was missing. He shook his head and stared back at the kid, waiting for some clarification.

Johnny focused in on two locations. One was in Miami and the other was in Sydney, Australia from what Mickey could read. Analyzing the time stamp, the realization hit him like a ton of bricks. "These happened within hours of one another," Mickey replied, snapping his fingers.

The confident expression on Mickey's face dropped, he didn't understand how that could be. "Unless our guy has a time machine, he couldn't have hit both places in such a short time frame," Johnny explained.

"So what are you saying?" 

The blonde boy grinned. "The Joker isn't just one person... I think it's a group of people working together."

"Shit," Mickey whispered. Things couldn't get more complicated than that. As if it wasn't bad enough trying to find one person, there were multiple of them working together... at least it explained why they had been so successful. It's a lot easier working with others, he had learned that back when Gibbs was still alive.

"They're really impressive though," Johnny pushed on. "I mean, look at their inventory, this is everything they've ever stolen." Mickey watched as Johnny pulled up a slideshow of all the artifacts that had been claimed by The Joker. He was beginning to feel slightly irritated until a specific statue caught his attention.

"Stop," he said firmly. "Go back to the last one." Johnny immediately did as told. 

Mickey felt sick to his stomach as he recognized the statue. "Can you tell me if this is a one of a kind?" he asked, barely above a whisper. He was sure he had stopped breathing.

The kid easily ran a search. "Yes, it's a one of a kind that originated in 1783," he answered. Mickey was out the door before the other boy had finished his sentence.

 

* * *

 

Blood boiled deep within his veins as the elevator doors opened and he made his way through a familiar door.

"Hey," Ian greeted him, the redhead was cooking dinner in the kitchen. "How'd your meeting go?"

Forcing himself into a tight smile, Mickey replied with 'informative,' as he walked over to the live statue he had seen on a screen just moments ago.

There was a feeling in the air that Ian couldn't quite describe, it made the hairs in the back of his neck stand up. He busied himself in the kitchen and hoped it would go away. As with most things in life, it didn't.

"Tell me about this statue," Mickey asked, his tone dry.

Ian looked up to see which one he was referring to. "Just something my brother picked up overseas," He responded coolly. 

It was the humorless laugh that escaped Mickey that caused Ian to freeze.

"That's funny. It looks identical to a one of a kind piece that was stolen in Moscow earlier this year. It's worth about 400 large."

For a moment, neither man said anything. If looks could kill, Ian would have died a few times that night, not that he could have noticed because he stared at nothing but the statue. 

"I swear, you better start talking or so help me God," the brunet threatened.

Inhaling deeply, Ian's eyes finally focused on Mickey.

"I wanted to tell you-" he stopped when the brunet's stare turned downright lethal. 

Changing his approach, he began again. "You grew up 2 blocks away from me. You're a Milkovich. I grew up hearing the horror stories of your household. Much like yours, my family did whatever we had to do to get by," Ian explained softly.

Mickey's pupils were blown up. Ian's words were so far from what he had been expecting. There weren't many other redheads in his neighborhood, it was downright pitifully that he had never put the pieces together.

"Jesus Christ," he groaned, momentarily covering his eyes with his palm. "Your brother is that wiz kid I went to school with... you're Ian fucking Gallagher," he murmured, more to himself than Ian.

They shared another silent moment until Mickey spoke up again.

"Did you know about me this entire time? What I do?" His expression was cold and gave nothing away.

Ian nodded lightly, remaining silent.

"When were you planning on telling me?" he asked, staring at Ian incredulously. "When I was half-way across the world with you?"

The brunet man scoffed when Ian remained silent, his answer was loud and clear.

"Imagine my fucking surprise when I found out the guy I've been fucking is also the same person who screwed me over during my last job." Ian winced at the cold, harsh words.

"Mickey, please-"

"No, you stay the fuck away from me Gallagher," he replied, cutting the other man off. "I fucking trusted you," he explained, his voice was so vulnerable it made Ian want to fall on his knees.

"I was just a pawn in your little game," a dry laugh escaped from Mickey. "Well congrats, you fucking won."

Ian instinctively reached for Mickey but a calloused hand raised mid-air stopped him.

"Don't," Mickey begged, causing Ian to halt. The redhead could feel his own heart breaking into pieces. He felt utterly helpless.

He watched as Mickey rushed out of the apartment, leaving nothing behind but the empty silence Ian always hated. He could have sworn he witnessed a tear ride down the other man's cheek as he walked away from him, possibly forever.


	4. Where's Your Honor?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey goes on his last job with Angie.  
> Ian gets on a plane to leave New York forever.

A full 48 hours had passed since Mickey had last seen Ian. He buried himself in planning every last detail with Angie about their upcoming job. It was all that was left, one more job and he was free. He had worked hard enough to secure a stable future for his younger sister Mandy who was attending school at Loyola. It was now time for him to move on from a life of crime. He'd been over the moon about the idea of Ian being by his side, but that was no longer an option. 

If there was one thing that mattered to Mickey above everything else, it was trust and honor. Two words he couldn't use to describe Ian. 

It fucking sucked. He had grown so acustomed to waking up wrapped in Ian's muscular arms and tracing the man's freckles when he was bored. Mickey wasn't sure when he had become so god damned whipped, but he was. 

Pushing all thoughts of Ian aside, Mickey focused on what tonight would bring. He was prepared for anything. Just one last job, that was it.

Shakey hands made it challenging for him to tie his navy blue tie. A knock on the door stopped him from failing again. Angie stood at the doorway wearing an emerald green dress. It was the same color as Ian's beautiful eyes. Mickey swallowed the lump in his throat and invited Angie in. She had noticed the change in mood Mickey was expressing but she knew better than to comment on it. He wasn't much for talking about his feelings.

"Well aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" She praised. 

"I would be if I could stop from fucking up my tie," he grumbled out, making his way back to the mirror.

Angie slapped his hands away causing the other man to step back and stare at her incredulously. She always did have bigger balls than most men.

In one fluid motion she did his tie, a little tighter than necessary, a silent warning for him to get his shit together.

They rode to the event in silence but turned on their brightest, biggest smiles as soon as they walked in the door. Angie had her arm looped through Mickey's as they socialized with other art collectors. The function was small enough to not give Mickey a headache by having to entertain too many people, but just big enough that both him and Angela could blend in with the crowd.

Though Mickey wasn't as popular in the scene, everyone who was anyone knew of Angie. They had agreed that the best time to make a move would be right after dinner. It was the time when people were the most sluggish and slower to react.

Mickey stared down at his watch. There was still a solid half hour until the plates would be served outside in the patio area. The realization made him grumpy. Both because he was so anxious to get the show on the road, and because he was starving. There was a feeling he couldn't shake off, it was as if someone was watching him. He had taken in everyone in the room, and no one stood out to him, everyone was equally busy entertaining another person to be even staring at Mickey for more than a fraction of a second.

A waiter offered them new champagne glasses and the duo happily took them. Angie was busy telling Mickey of a new art scandal when they saw a group of security men pulling the owner of the place off to the side. Instinctively Mickey and Angie moved closer in an attempt to overhear the conversation.

"Sir, we have no idea how it happened. Your Picasso piece is missing from your private collection. It was there just an hour ago when we did a sweep of the place," one of the large security guys said. He handed the owner a single card that Mickey had seen once before much to his dismay.

The owner paled at the news and made an announcement to move everyone to the patio as discreetly as possible.

Mickey's fists were balled so tightly that his knuckles were white.

"This is some fucking bullshit," he said lowly. "So much for honor among thieves."

Angie forced a smile as she looped her arm in Mickey's and walked him out. "Calm down, or you'll attract unwarranted attention to yourself." 

They were forced to make it through the rest of evening as Mickey could only think about his hands gripping Ian's neck tightly until we could no longer breathe. He was once again forced to leave empty handed.

 

* * *

 

Making his way into his apartment after a long night filled with disappointment, Mickey slammed the door shut and angrily pulled off his tie. Unable to contain his rage, he put his fist through the wall, channeling all his emotions into the hit.

He had been so enraged he hadn't noticed the figure in his living room, hidden in the shadows of the dark apartment.

"I don't know who the fuck you are, but you chose the wrong day to fuck with me," he threatened, gripping his pocket knife tightly.

"It's just me," a defeated voice answered. The familiar voice froze Mickey to his core. He slowly walked into the living room and turned on the desk lamp.

The low light that now filled the room revealed a very worn out Ian. His eyes were bloodshot red like he hadn't slept, his face looked remarkably tired. Mickey struggled to swallow the lump that found itself in his throat. He wanted nothing more than to reach out to Ian, until he remembered everything that happened.

Sensing Mickey's hostility begin to rise, Ian held his hands up in surrender.

"Please," he begged. "I'm not here to fight," he explained.

Reaching around the side of the sofa which was hidden from Mickey, he pulled out a rolled tube. "The Picasso is in here. The Lawrence family rotated their security system yesterday with everything that's been occurring. You were walking into a trap," Ian said tiredly.

The blood in Mickey's body seemed to cool down significantly, taking in Ian's words.

After a long moment of silence between the two, Mickey spoke up. "Is this the part where I'm supposed to thank you? I'm still very fucking mad at you Ian," he struggled to keep the heat away from his voice.

The redhead stood up slowly and chuckled sadly. "No. I just wanted to make sure you'd be okay. I wanted you to have what you were looking for, and this is it," he concurred, pointing to the painting. 

He walked past Mickey, making his way towards the door. He stopped, looking over his shoulder at Mickey. "My flight to Venezuela leaves tomorrow. My intention was always to have you come with me. There's a ticket on the coffee table. I'm sorry if I hurt you, that was never my intention." 

The redhead held Mickey's gaze for a moment longer and then pulled on the door to exit. Leaving a conflicted Mickey in his wake.

 

* * *

 

It was seven in the morning when Mickey's phone started going off the hook. He had fallen asleep on his sofa after downing an entire bottle of scotch the night before. He'd chosen to wallow in that spot as it was the last place Ian had been. It smelled faintly of the other man's cologne.

He was getting a FaceTime call from Johnny. Groaning, he answered the call.

"What the fuck?" he answered, annoyed at how the kid had woken him up from a drunken hazed sleep.

"Sorry to call you at such an early time. I haven't gone to sleep yet. I think I've made a major break through," the kid informed him excitedly.

"Look kid, if it's about the Joker, I'm not interested," Mickey said lowly, rubbing his eyes.

Johnny frowned. "Trust me, you'll want to hear what I have to say. It's fucking remarkable."

Mickey rolled his eyes but allowed the kid to continue, his curiosity had been piqued. 

"Okay, so I cross-referenced the black market prices for the items that The Joker has stolen, I tried to find if anything was purchased for that same amount. A car, a house, stocks, etc. I came up empty, but I found something even better," he told Mickey, his excitement building up as he talked. "There were anonymous donations made for the same amount as the items to a variety of organizations. The money was also donated in the same city where the items were stolen. An orphanage in Sydney, a women's shelter in Moscow, a cancer research center in Los Angeles. It's fucking incredible. This guy is literally my hero. From what I can tell, he hasn't actually pocketed any money from all his notoriously big jobs for himself. That's some serious dedication," Johnny praised.

Mickey's face paled as he processed all the information. "Hey kid, I gotta go. Thanks for the info," he abruptly ended his phone call with Johnny and stared at his watch.

"Shit," he murmured to himself, rushing to get on his feet.

 

* * *

 

The JFK airport was busy as usual. Ian went through the remote motions of going through TSA, and waited for his flight to be announced at the gate. He looked for Mickey at every chance, he hoped that the dark haired man with the perfect baby blue eyes would change his mind.

A sense of panic washed over him as he boarded the plane. They would be taking off in 15 minutes. He watched tentatively as passengers began to fill the plane but none of them were Mickey. 

Ian stared down at his watch and noticed that the 15 minutes were up. When a flight attendant walked his way, he immediately reached out to her.

"Excuse me?" he asked, not being able to hide the worry in his voice.

The woman smiled at him politely.

"Has the gate closed?" he felt his heart pounding in his chest.

"It's closing now sir. We have no one else at the gate that needs to get on." she replied, offering him a sympathetic smile.

Ian slumped down in his seat feeling absolutely defeated. He pushed his seat back, despite the fact that they would be taking off soon. He closed his eyes and forced himself to clear his mind.

He was peaceful for about a minute, his breathing had finally evened out but the sound of the overhead compartment opening woke him from his daze. 

Feeling annoyed, his eyes fluttered open to glare at whom had woken him.

"Jesus, this is first class and you guys still don't have enough overhead space? What kinda shit is that?" a familiar voice grumbled out as he struggled to make his bag fit.

Ian released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

Mickey slipped into the seat next to him with ease. He stared at the redhead with thoughtful eyes and a soft expression. "Sorry I'm late."

The redhead could say nothing as he was feeling so overwhelmed by a wave of feelings. He reached out and squeezed Mickey's hand, knowing everything would be alright now that he was here.

"I got you something," Ian croaked out. He reached into the pouch in the seat in front of him and pulled a neatly folded Hawaiian style shirt.

Mickey let out a laugh that surely made Ian's heart skip a beat. It was one of his favorite sounds. The brunet held it up against him, it was a perfect fit from what he could tell.

Reaching into his small duffel bag, Mickey tossed something at Ian which he caught swiftly. He stared at him with a confused expression.

"It's sunscreen," Mickey explained. "I bet you burn like a motherfucker."

Their eyes met for a moment before both men broke out into equally loud roars of laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The epilogue will be the last "chapter," can't wait to share it with y'all. It'll contain lots of fluff and happiness now that we've surpassed all the angst and drama.  
> I know it feels short, this was originally meant to be a one-shot that I broke into chapters. :)


	5. Epilogue - Sunshine and Tequila

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is :) the final chapter. I've realized I have a knack for dramatic antics but I promise this last one is full of happy fluff.

Ian stood at the dockside bar sipping on an excellent margarita. It was slightly ironic as he had ended up in La Isla de Margarita.

He sensed someone standing in close proximity and when he turned, he found a blonde haired man staring down at him smirking. He was handsome, Ian would give him that, but he wasn't what he was interested in.

"That seat taken?" The stranger asked, sitting down before Ian could reply.

Ian sighed lowly. The man didn't know what he was getting himself into. He continued to look forward and sip his drink quietly.

"So, what's a pretty little face like you doing here sitting all alone?" The man flirted, he licked his lips in an attempt at seduction which made Ian cringe.

A hand with tattooed knuckles gripped the back of the stranger's neck tightly.

Mickey leaned in closely to whisper into the man's ear. "Is that all you think he is? A pretty face?" He asked, chuckling darkly.

"He's sculpted like a Greek God and fucks like one too," Mickey informed the man. He tightened his grip a bit more, making the man whimper slightly. "He also happens to be mine... all mine, and I've never been one to share. So how about you take a hike, eh?"

Mickey loosened his grip and the man quickly scrambled to his feet and ran off. Ian grinned proudly as his boyfriend took a seat next to him.

"Carlos," Mickey called out, waving the bartender over. "Una cerveza por favor."

The older man nodded and brought over Mickey's favorite beer, a cerveza polar brewed in Venezuela.

"Missed ya," Mickey addressed Ian, taking a swig of his beer and exhaling with an "ahhh" sound.

"You did?" Ian asked, his expression feigning innocence.

"Yeah man, the water was amazing," Mickey replied, running his fingers through his damp black hair. He was shirtless with only a pair of swim trunks on. "Plus, I leave you alone for a few hours and the vultures come out to play," he explained with a deep frown.

Ian chuckled lightly, shaking his head. He grabbed Mickey's hand and placed kisses along the other man's knuckles. "You know I only have eyes for you."

"You fucking better," the brunet threatened playfully. "These tattoos aren't for decoration."

They'd been in South America for well over a year. They had stayed on the island in Venezuela for a few months before traveling their way south. They visited the Christ the Redeemer statue in Rio de Janeiro and backpacked through the rainforests of Ecuador and Peru. They'd ended up returning to Venezuela as Mickey had a soft spot for the food and beer.

Returning back to their cottage, they washed off under the shower kissing lazily and scrubbing each other with body wash.

The duo took a nap before returning back into town to have dinner.

At exactly 7pm they walked side by side through the small shops on their way to the restaurant. They knew most of the locals and had even picked up on enough Spanish to entertain others with their "gringo lingo."

Living together for a year had taught them a lot about one another. It wasn't easy and they faced many challenging times. Mickey had learned that Ian loved waking up before the sun was out, needed dishes to be cleaned right away, and hated any sort of clutter. Ian learned that Mickey was the exact opposite and never backed down from a fight. He wasn't sure how his boyfriend hadn't ended up in jail during this entire time. They'd also grown together. Ian was always open with Mickey, about everything. In return, Mickey grew more confident in his affections for Ian and stopped letting his fear dominate his life.

"14 months. It's been 14 months and I haven't even reached a fraction of your perfect caramel colored tan," Ian complained, taking his seat across Mickey in the table.

"Not my fault you're a fucking albino bastard," Mickey said simply, analyzing the menu.

Ian stuck out his tongue defiantly making the other man chuckle. He loved how Mickey's eyes wrinkled at the edges when he laughed.

The waitress, Rosa, took their orders and brought them a glass of wine each.

"How'd it go at the shelter?" Mickey asked, taking a sip of his red wine.

"It was fun. I got to help deworm some puppies," Ian replied cheerily.

Mickey crinkled his nose. "Uh, gross. Hope you washed your hands," he teased.

Ian gave him a pointed look and continued to tell him about all the other dogs that were in the shelter.

Wherever they traveled to, Ian always found a place to volunteer his time and efforts. It was something Mickey admired greatly. They had both agreed to retire from their former profession.

When Mickey had asked about how he got into the art stealing business, Ian had explained how he had teamed up with his brothers Lip and Carl to create "The Joker." Lip was a talented hacker who had somehow managed to escape the FBI's radar. He was the technical aspect of things. Carl was the man who would sell the artifacts, as he knew how the underground market ran. Ian himself was the frontman, he did the physical stealing and would attend the events undercover.

When he had broken everything down for Mickey, the brunet couldn't help but be thoroughly impressed. Ian admitted it had originally started as stealing low scale level things to meet ends meet but it eventually had turned into stealing from the rich to help the poor.

Rosa returned with their plates and both men's mouths started to water.

"Hm, you didn't get your usual," Ian noted.

Mickey shrugged. "It tasted like ass last time I had it."

"Eating ass is my favorite," Ian joked with a grin.

"Very funny Joker," Mickey responded, unimpressed with his boyfriend's humor.

"If I'm the Joker, doesn't that make you my Harley Quinn?" Ian asked with a curious eyebrow.

Mickey snorted. "Fuck off. I'm Batman."

"Is that so?" The redhead challenged.

"Uh, huh," Mickey replied, his mouth full of food.

After dinner wrapped up, they moved into the lounge area of the restaurant. It contained a large map of the world.

"Do you wanna do the honors?" Ian asked. He saw Mickey's eyes light up.

Mickey pulled out a ninja star from his pocket. He put one hand over his eyes and shot the star forward.

"Alright. So where to next?" He asked Ian who was looking at where it had landed.

"Paris," Ian replied.

Mickey grinned triumphantly. It was about damn time they made it to Europe.

 

* * *

 

Johnny dragged himself up the 4 flights of stairs to his dormroom. Of course the elevator would break down after having been at the library all night. He stopped by his mailbox before entering his room. There was a post card and a manila envelope in his box.

He read over the postcard. The picture was of a beach chair on some unknown island. Much to his surprise, it was from Mickey.

_Hey kid,_

_I'm sure Angie already told you I skipped town. I hope one day you leave that library you love hanging out in and travel the world. It's pretty fucking awesome out here. I also found someone along the way, they gave me a gift for you, you'll find it in the manila envelope.  
Keep up the good work kid. One day you'll probably rule the world._

_Not yours,  
Mickey_

Johnny was smiling from ear to ear. He was sure Mickey hated him but maybe he had underestimated the man's soft spot for him.

He quickly tore open the envelope to dig into its contents.

Inside was a single signature card, The Joker's card. The card that was always left behind to claim his steals.

"Well I'll be damned," Johnny said to himself, chuckling. "He actually found him."

Mickey had found him, and he was planning on keeping him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has been following this story. It started off as an odd dream I had that I was able to capture on paper. Now that D.A.T has concluded, I will be starting on a few new fics, and will continue to work on OLUF.
> 
> Let me know what you think in the comments! I love hearing from y'all. 
> 
> Also feel free to reach out on tumblr - cagedbird30


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